


Midnight Snack

by RittaPokie



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Blowjobs, Body Worship, Other, Praise Kink, a little bit of, handjobs, it's just soft, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:27:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26708227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RittaPokie/pseuds/RittaPokie
Summary: it's not really midnight, and Molly's not really looking for the traditional kind of snack
Relationships: Mollymauk Tealeaf/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 10
Kudos: 175





	Midnight Snack

Molly doesn’t know how long he’s been lying awake in his own bed, staring at the starlit mural on the wall of his and Yasha’s room. Finally, heaving a sigh, he pulls himself from the warm confines of his bed, and throws his coat on over his naked body.

He patters down the stairs, skipping the creaky step, and shuffled through the front room towards the kitchen. The flickering light from under Caleb’s door gives him pause, but he continues on. He gathers a meager snack of dried meat, apricots, and a bit of bread.

On his way back through, he stops again, his tail twitching in his indecision. He shifts the weight of his cloth-covered package, and raps his knuckles against Caleb’s door. He doesn’t want to wake him, if he’s fallen asleep with a candle burning, so he keeps the knock as quiet as he can.

He hears multiple locks turn before the door opens, and the wizard is revealed before him. “Mollymauk,” Caleb says, sounding a little surprised, “why are you awake so late?”

Molly shrugs, “I don’t know,” he says. “I could ask you the same.”

Caleb steps aside to allow him in, and then closes the door behind them. Molly sets the cloth onto Caleb’s bedside table and unwraps it, seating himself on the bed. For Caleb’s sake, he keeps the coat wrapped decently enough.

Molly gestures to the food, “You’re welcome to join me in this… what time is it?”

“Ah, it is three twenty in the morning,” Caleb says.

“Not quite a midnight snack, then,” Molly says. “An early breakfast.”

Molly takes a moment to admire the redhead while he considers the offer. His trousers are looser without a belt to hold them in place, half the buttons undone on his shirt, his sleeves rolled up, and his hair pulled back haphazardly into a tie. His fingers are freshly ink-stained, Molly notes. _Positively scandalous_ , Molly thinks, and he smirks.

Caleb abandons whatever book he had open on his desk, and sits next to Molly on the bed. He tears a chunk off of the bread and eats it, chewing slowly.

Molly watches him in the dancing candlelight, and has a revelation that it wasn’t the hunger for food that was keeping him awake in the first place. The shadow of his own tail swishing on the wall distracts him, and he absently makes shadow puppets for a moment before he hears Caleb chuckle next to him.

“You should see them on circus tents,” Molly says, “circus tents make the _creepiest_ shadows.”

“Show me sometime,” Caleb says.

“I would, but a demon frog kind of ate a bunch of our audience,” Molly says. “Unless you’re willing to buy a replacement tent?”

“Ah, but I spent all of my coin on paper and ink,” Caleb says.

“As one does,” Molly nods. “Is that what you were working on?”

Molly shifts innocently, and his coat drifts down his arm, leaving his left shoulder bare. He leaves it there, and watches Caleb’s gaze linger before he answers.

“Yes,” Caleb answers.

Normally Molly would tease him, but there’s a quiet, a thread pulled taut with tension, that he’s worried might break. So he lets the coat slip farther instead

Caleb trails his fingers lightly over the curve of Molly’s shoulder, his neck, and Molly shivers. Caleb’s hand cups Molly’s cheek, and the tiefling leans into the touch like a pleased cat.

Molly’s expression is soft, but there’s a _hunger_. Caleb finds it equally enchanting and terrifying. His thumb strokes the jut of Molly’s sharp cheekbone.

Molly smiles, “You look like you’re about to kiss me,” he says, his voice almost a whisper.

“I think I might,” Caleb breathes back to him.

“I think you should,” Molly agrees.

Caleb leans into him, and Molly welcomes him with open arms, cooling around him like the snake tattoo he bears. The first brush of their lips is almost a question. _What is this, what are we_ ; they’re questions that Caleb has wanted to ask, but not known how.

Molly pulls him down, until he’s braced on one hand, the other tangled helplessly in soft purple locks. He tightens his grip on a whim, and Molly _whines_ against his mouth.

Molly makes a plaintive sound of weak protest when Caleb pulls back, but he *has* to look, to see. He needs to commit this to memory. Molly is laid out on his bed, not even halfway in his coat anymore, beautiful and _wanting_

Molly props up on one elbow and reaches for Caleb’s shirt, gripping the fabric in his fist and tugging him back down. Caleb goes, because it’s where he wants to be, and belongs.

The second kiss is less soft, more needy. Caleb drinks it in greedily, more so than he’d ever thought he’d let himself. One by one, Molly pops the buttons on Caleb’s shirt open.

The tiefling’s skin is warm on his own, like the fire that Caleb has been hopelessly drawn to his whole life. He’s desperate to hear Molly whine again, and finds his fingers threaded into soft hair again. He tugs harder this time, by a measure, and Molly groans under him. His back arches, pressing them ever closer.

Caleb breaks free of the kiss again, and presses his lips feather-light across Molly’s neck, his chest, pausing to draw a stiffened nipple into his mouth and suck.

“Fuck, Caleb,” Molly gasps out.

“I am trying to,” Caleb murmurs against the warm skin of Molly’s stomach.

Molly laughs breathlessly at that, “You can do whatever you want,” he says, “as long as it involves your mouth on me.”

Caleb hums, happy to oblige that request, and trails his kisses lower, wetter.

Molly’s fingers in his hair guide him further down. His hands on Molly’s thighs steady the squirming tiefling. He takes Molly’s cock into his mouth without hesitation.

Molly’s answering sigh is edged with a moan and full of relief, and it twists a vice-grip of desire in Caleb’s stomach.

“Good boy,” Molly breathes above him, a calling card of an earlier time in their flirting. Caleb’s nails bite reddened marks across the lavender of Molly’s inner thigh in response, bringing a groan from the tiefling’s lips.

He takes Molly to the back of his throat, and ignores the tightening threat to choke, fighting it with a swallow that makes Molly keen.

“Caleb,” Molly gasps out, his voice hoarse and broken. His toes are dug into the sheets beneath him, and he pets Caleb’s hair, stoking the flames consuming him. “I can’t, _ah_ “

Caleb’s eyes meet Molly’s, and he can feel how soft they are from how he feels his heart flutter in his chest. More than sex, this feels like reverence, and Caleb wants to _worship_

He moves away and up, and opens his mouth to ask if he can kiss Molly, but the tiefling pulls them together before he can get the words out.

Caleb’s fingers find Molly’s cock, slicked with his own spit, and he strokes him with single-minded purpose, he wants to feel, see, and hear Molly break over the edge. Molly bows into his touch, his hips canting to meet his movements, and Caleb drinks in the tiefling’s moans of pleasure. Molly laces his fingers with those of Caleb’s free hand, gripping him like a lifeline as his thighs start to tremble.

Caleb’s heart swells with a sense of pride, bringing Molly gasping for breath through his orgasm, and kissing his neck softly as he comes down from it. He could lay here, pressed against Molly’s warmth, and be content.

Molly blinks, a hand over his heart, and meets Caleb’s eyes on him as his breathing slows to normalcy again. He smiles, but Caleb doesn’t mirror him. He’s neutral, on eggshells, like he has been since they met. Molly caresses his cheek, as gentle as he’s able, since his body feels heavy and floppy now.

Molly half-turns on the bed, and presses a kiss to Caleb’s forehead, his cheek, his lips. Soft and perhaps cloyingly sweet.

“You’re so good,” Molly whispers against the wizard’s lips, and Caleb’s breath hitches. “You felt so good.”

Molly moves his hand between them and finds Caleb painfully hard, leaking, and the redhead’s eyes flutter almost-closed at the tender touches. 

“Molly,” he whispers, afraid that this might shatter if he is too loud. He bites back a moan when Molly’s grip tightens around him. He can feel pleasure drawing like a bowstring in his belly.

“Can you make noise for me, darling?” Molly asks, keeping his tone gentle. Caleb’s eyes flash open again and he nods slowly. “Good, good.” Molly says.

He twists his wrist at the end of a stroke and Caleb sucks in a gasp, and lets it out as a shaky moan. He buries his face against Molly’s chest, feeling the flush take over his cheeks. It’s been so long since he allowed himself to be louder than a whisper, more than a mouse in the corner, a snake in the tall grass.

Molly cradles him, rubbing his back with the hand that’s not bringing him crashing towards completion. Molly slows his strokes again, to hear Caleb whine plaintively, his hips jerking into Molly’s touch. He holds him there for a moment before speeding up again, and Caleb’s fingers fist into Molly’s coat behind his back as his body curls in on itself.

“M-Mol _ly_ ,” he trembles out. “Molly, please, I-”

“Come for me, Caleb,” Molly says. “You don’t have to hold back with me, I want you.”

Caleb tips over the edge with a whine, his whole body shaking with it. Blissfully unaware of the passing seconds, Caleb pants to gather his breath again. He can feel Molly rubbing slow circles on his lower back, his other arm draped over his side.

Caleb stretches and hums at the soft afterbuzz from his core. There’s cold left when Molly sits, and then stands on wobbly legs. Caleb’s heart only has to break for a moment before Molly comes back, a cloth in hand, and cleans them both up. He settles down with his arms around Caleb once more, and Caleb watches his face, now that his wits are about him again.

“You enjoyed that, I take it,” Molly says.

Caleb huffs, amused. “Did you think I would not?”

“Uh…” Molly hums for a second. “No, no, not really? I mean, I’m me.”

“You are, indeed, you, Mollymauk,” Caleb says with a smile, and then it fades to a furrowed brow and insecurity. “Will you stay?” he asks in a whisper.

Molly’s answering expression is almost hurt, but not for himself, and he pets Caleb’s stubbled cheeks. “Of course I’ll stay, silly,” Molly says, “as long as you want me to.”

 _Forever, then,_ Caleb thinks, but he doesn’t say it. Instead, he just smiles and kisses Molly.


End file.
